1.9.17
TAROT
Death XIII (Major Arcana)

“i know i may not pass this test
but oh, Death
i’ll raise my eyes to the sky
give me great feathered wings to fly
but please, now is not my time to die
i’ve been speaking with the dead
Removed from my physical proximity
But riling through my lungs, oxygen
regimented pain, reminding me of purpose
as i hurl myself
unflinching, unblinking
into the glow of luminescent tomorrows
without you, i have been speaking with the dead
SHE who was reluctant to reveal my amputated dreams
but keeps me in her good graces
beCause i love her
i have to tell her
there are those who would defang you
sprinkling disreputable memories in the well-water of your good-ness
those discontents roaming aimlessly
shouting voices unheard
SHE speaks to me in dreams
her melancholic whispers prevent my fevered reconsiderations
SHE knows
SHE showed me my future, became my past
in what seemed like the same breath
in my remembrance
i explode backwards
my rarely punctuated heartbeat
runs on setencing me daily to begin without her
those lingering pomegranate sunsets ready me for her meticulous inspection
we see the same stars
and i will continue building this legacy we started together
grateful that SHE armed me with conviction in my condemnation
will not falter in her absence
i will luminate every horizon revealed to me
‘Cause i’m not angry anymore
my insomniatic refusals to continue conversations we started
when SHE was in the flesh no longer
called from my ranker
though, there are days when her presence is skin i’ve never shed
there are days when the rustling of leaves resembles her laughter and I spin on my heels
seeking her face in a box of dead trees
there are days when i miss her like teeth
but I promise, I’m not angry anymore
because I know she would’ve given her life to be here
and I am here
eagerly awaiting the blanket of stars to cover me so that when slumber finally takes me
SHE and I
we will continue this
conversation”

POLY
we’re shaking cold with anticipation
i’ve fallen off the wagon
but you still choice to warm my hands in yours
despite the cough in your lungs.
your eyes tell me
the ring on your finger
has never been heavier.

SUGARDADDY
the calm before the storm
is not so calm
when the raindrops falling from the ceiling
don’t know if their floor will be hot coals
ready to fire at any minute
fearful children shooting coping riffles with their mouths
a bullet is as good a tool
as handshake.
children coping in war
killing their own team
we make our choices:
i choose to stand tall amongst the cedars
i choose to bear a low enough fruit for everyone to eat
i choose to comfort
i choose to encourage
i choose to not put down the one that asks for help
i choose kindness.

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1.8.17
FORTUNA
somehow things make sence
Amor Fati
it would be vein to call it a stumble upon
this was never our doing
we will continue
to check the watches on our wrist and pray
that this day is a good day
the moon does not miss sun
that life can live when time has stopped
“and to this day the sun has never said to the Earth;
you owe me.”

LANDMARK
your tuning fork landmark roadway has called
i’ve met you before
among the lay-away incarnations.
woman-warrior,
your a company confidant crocheting wool across my gentle.
Curtain hair, red fired dancing through your bellows
my elbows are touching your perhaps
and we’re making connections
allowing the doe to swim through the insides
and moving forward.
we’re songbird, we’re kindred, we’re general marked down page swimmers.
a confirmation that Fortuna does not abandon
her stories
we – the cantadoras of her cuenta cuentos
“I live in my dreams — that’s what you sense. Other people live in dreams, but not in their own. That’s the difference.” here’s where we tie the knots in our do’s.

1.4.17
BELLADONNA
mirror – you’ve always been the clearest
i cried for you
just like you have for me
in cities where no man sleeps easy
we rest the goldfish in the platter
cannibals picking at each other’s scabs
waiting for the next full moon
to call our hunchback pretty.
Our destruction isn’t pretty
our wild is just that
muddy windy-cold
with no dry socks and
too many ice cubes in your drink.
we’re wretched
and now wrinkled finding calm
but we’ll always be the
vagabond inside
did you know i cried when you said
“what I feel for anyone is only a portion of what I feel for you.”
vagabond, thief, deviant, you tyrant
everything within you is reflected in me.

thank you. thank you. thank you.
my hands,
my eyes,
could never do justice
to how my heart
rejoiced in these words.


FORTUNA
the grate dodge,
retracting. i’m a broken yo-yo
too tangled in my string to fully come down.
were those moments real?
did you truly hold me?
or was i
trophy – a conquest to prove your heartache
healing.
you’ve shown me sweetness,
but only just enough
tenderness
but only just the edge.
i’m too scared to play a guess
so i’m checking my own king.
you cunt, you lovely cunt
don’t make me happy. please don’t fill me up
and let me think
that something good can come out of this.
look at my bruises. Look at this gaze.
do you see graze inside of me? Do you
see it growing before your very eyes,
eroding me?


POLY
DreamWalking
final decision
we’re closing in on eachother
do you think i don’t know what it feels
to be choked out by a ring
tetanus tease
its simply
subconscious

12.21.16
this is the longest night of the year
the storm has come
roaring frivolities and accountability.
dust, humidity, broken frames
are amongst our exhales.
We empty, knowing the next breath is just around the corner.
Let the grief take over your heart your bones your bones your bones
are freezing with a sweetness cavity.
the present sends me shadows
of marker archetypes
the faces i still know, but have lost somewhere in translation.
this is okay.
feral is okay.
warmth is okay.
it’s okay, for optimism to hold the rains now
both shoes have dropped
and you saw the red-eye-bulls headed for your tumbling
early enough to spare your feet
the worst is over – growing pains are only the consequence of
capacity of feeling.
there is magic in the air, we can taste it.
sleep easy knowing someone finds answers in pages too.

i’m trying to learn the courage behind vulnerability. again.

12.17.16
i have a soft spot for beings who do not know their own worth.
come on in.

your reckless loud
put it back where it came from.
when your truly split in two
when the beast is within
growling, snarling, howling, showing teeth
two sides two the coin
mirror, i heard you the first time
shattering on my couch
i held your shards together
truth bleeding onto white ankle socks
hoping no to bruise you
hoping our carbon atoms wouldn’t
grieve us too early.
They were once part of something bigger you see,
but your brain is a tyrant
enslaving your stomach your mouth.
i don’t want to love you
i’ve seen what goodbyes can do to our hands.